demolition lovers || frerard

" home "

Sunday evening, Frank started his car, accepted an angry goodbye kiss from Gerard, and began the five-minute drive home. He was tired and sore and a hell of a lot more confused than he was when he first arrived two days ago.

At home, he took a shower and noticed the marks on his collarbones, trailing down his chest. He grinned. Of course Gerard would've done that, marked his territory.

Frank's smile faded. Was he 'Gerard's' now? Cause the way Mikey was acting, you'd think Frank had just signed his soul over to the devil. Well, Gerard being Satan wasn't too far of a stretch. He certainly was hot as hell.

Frank's fingers skimmed the bruises on his wrist. These were a bit more suspicious. Anything else he could cover up, but this? He couldn't exactly wear bracelets or long sleeves- he wasn't the type to do that.

The shower water turned cold and he started, jerking as if he had been falling asleep. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, black locks dripping water onto his skinny chest. He yawned and stumbled to his room, where he dried off and pulled on a pair of boxers.

It was then that he remembered Mikey's Christmas present. God, that had been so long ago. A pair of skeleton gloves he'd never worn. But they would do to hide the bruises, and no one would question those cause- come on, Frank was emo enough to pull it off. However, he hadn't seen them for nearly five months. Who knew whether they could even be found in his absolute mess of a room?

Luckily, after a fair bit of searching, he did come across them, along with the card they'd come with. He sat down then and reread it, grinning at Mikey's messy handwriting.

merry christmas frnki!!! got u these gloves bc i kno ur emo nd ull love em. gees being a fucking dick nd telling me not to get them but fuck him right?? anyway merry christmas (again) hope it's not too shitty :)))
-from mikey

Bad spelling, yeah, and Frank grimaced at his stupid nickname- frnki, seriously?- but whatever, it was a cute card. He tossed it somewhere back into the mess and focused on the gloves. They were still in their packaging and he tore them out, inspecting them. Not bad. Plain black cotton with white skeletal bones. He slid them on, laughing at how fucking stupid he looked- gloves and underwear on only. They did do a good job of hiding the bruises, though, for which he was grateful.

Frank's phone buzzed and he glanced at it. The screen said 'gerard <3'- look, don't make fun of him, okay? He was just a stupid boy with a silly crush.

gerard <3- hey

frank- yo!!

gerard <3- what are you doing?

frank- nothing, why?

gerard <3- just wondering. you left your lighter here, by the way

Frank looked around and confirmed, dismayed, that his lighter was indeed gone.

frank- shit!!!

gerard <3- i can drop it off now if you want.

frank- nah i don't want to bother u

gerard <3- you're not. i'll be over in five minutes.

frank- oh ok

The phone didn't buzz after that, as Frank searched for clothes that were relatively clean enough to wear.

By the time he was pulling on his socks, the doorbell rang and his mom yelled, "It's for you!"

"Coming!" he called back and made his way down the stairs. Gerard was standing just outside, his hair messy and his clothes- black skinny jeans ripped at the knees and a Sex Pistols shirt- rumpled as usual. "Hi," he said, lifting his hand out of his pocket to wave stiffly. Frank closed the door behind him and stepped out on the porch, looking around. Gerard looked mildly irritated.